“I am no hand at public speaking,” he said, “and on this occasion must content myself with a few words. As I sat here listening to the speaker who preceded me I have heard comparisons made to the eagle, to the swallow and to the hawk as typifying skill and speed in the mastery of the air; but, somehow or other, I could not keep from thinking of the bird which, of all the ornithological kingdom, is the poorest flier and the best talker. I refer to the parrot.” And down he sat amid tremendous applause from the Americans present. § 154 The Unforgivable Sin A year or two before his death, Booker T. Washington made an address in a small town in Georgia. When he had finished, an old Confederate soldier, white-haired and white-moustached, pushed forward to the platform, his face aglow with enthusiasm. “Professor Washington,” he declared, “I want to do now what I never thought I’d be doing—I want to clasp your hand and pledge you my support for the great work you are doing. And furthermore, I want to tell you this: that was the best speech I ever heard in my life and you are the greatest man in this country to-day!” “I’m afraid you do me too much honor,” said Washington. “Wouldn’t you regard Col. Roosevelt as the greatest man we have?” “Huh!” exploded the Southerner. “I’ve had no use for him since he invited you to eat a meal with him at the White House.” § 155 The Burden of the Black Brother I just told a story relating to Booker Washington. Here’s another. It was a favorite anecdote of the great negro educator. He said that the citizens of a remote Southern community got interested in a project to import some Europeans to the neighborhood and colonize them. A meeting was held at the courthouse to discuss ways and means. In the audience sat an elderly and highly respected colored citizen. After the meeting adjourned the chairman of it hailed the old negro. “Hello, Uncle Zack!” he said. “I was glad to have you with us to-night. I take it that you endorse the project we’ve put under way?” “Well, Kunnel, I wouldn’t go so fur ez to say dat,” stated the old man. “To tell you de Gawd’s truth, they’s already mo’ w’ite folks in dis county than us niggers kin suppo’t.” § 156 Openings in the Higher Branches Fourth of July was supposed to be a holiday in a certain garrison of the regular army out West, but a grizzled old sergeant named Kelly, in charge of the guard house, had his own ideas about this holiday notion. After breakfast he ordered all his prisoners to line up outside their prison quarters, and he made a short speech: “There is no doubt in me own mind,” he said, “but that a good many of you men should not be prisoners at all. You’ve neglected your opportunities, that’s all. Some here has had educations and should make good company clerks. Maybe there’s some others amongst you who’d like to be company barbers and earn a little money on the side.”